


Nocturna

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Lost
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hallucinations, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posted for archival purposes.Some flowers bloom under the moonlight.
Relationships: James "Sawyer" Ford/Sayid Jarrah
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Nocturna

There are bodies under the trees.

He can't see them, but he knows they're there. They whisper to him. Hushed words spoken by the dead in a language he doesn't recognize. First one, then another, then hundreds, thousands until he can no longer distinguish between them. They're laughing at him, taunting him, screaming their secrets and...

There are bodies in the trees.

He can’t see them, but he knows they’re there. They watch him. Irises darting this way and that, following his every movement until he's certain they can see right through him. Pictures them rooting out all his secrets, leaving him stripped and bare until there's nowhere left to hide. There are thousands of them, waiting for him, watching him, weighting his sins and...

There are bodies everywhere.

They're hanging from the branches and crawling in the mud. Burrowing beneath the bark and he can see them. Feel their breath as their words hit his ears and see their eyes shining in the moonlight. Their hands clasp and grab, pulling and pushing and...

Sayid wakes screaming.

Struggles against thin blankets until he remembers where he is. The light in the cave is warm, firelight reflected in shades of orange and red, flickering, glowing, wrapping around him until the muted pale green of the jungle vanishes into the depths of his mind.

Someone is watching him.

Staring out from the shadows and Sayid tenses before bringing Sawyer's face into focus. Sawyer is smirking, eyes dancing with laughter and Sayid swallows the sudden urge to spit.

"What do you want?" he hears himself ask, the words broken, strangled by sleep and thirst.

"Do you always scream in your sleep, Sayid?"

Sawyer knows his name.

~*~

The nightmares never stop. They appear every night, following him, haunting him until he's half tempted to trek out into the wilderness and start digging beneath the trees, find the bodies he knows are hidden there. He doesn't, telling himself that it would just worry the others, make them think he'd lost his mind. He hasn't. He's not crazy, not even a little and when Jack frowns over at him, casting him a nervous, worried look, Sayid smiles and tries to look normal. Whatever that is.

He doesn't bother stopping, even though he knows Jack wants to say something. Comment on his odd behaviour or maybe ask if there's anything he needs. Like sedatives or pain killers or whatever other drugs Jack carries around in his pockets. Sayid doesn't want them. Doesn't need them and when Sayid turns a corner, Jack's eyes vanishing from his line of sight, Sayid lets his smile fade and tells himself he doesn't have to pretend to be happy.

He has to fight not to head into the jungle, forcing himself to place each foot in front of the other until he finally reaches what's left of the beach. Shannon's still there, lying with her face turned up toward the sun and Sayid doesn't hesitate before setting off in her direction. She's the only person on the island who actually speaks French and there are notes to translate.

Things to learn and secrets to uncover and when he reaches her side, he kneels, his bad leg protesting the movement and Sayid has to bite his lip to keep from crying out in pain.

"I need your help," he says, simply, because he doesn't know how else to ask.

He shifts, curling his legs beneath him until he's sitting cross-legged across from her. She doesn't say anything, but her expression is leery, her eyes nervous and Sayid smiles in what he hopes is a pleading manner. He hands over Danielle's notes wordlessly, thrusting them into her hand before she's even agreed and when Shannon glances down, Sayid releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"We need to translate these," he continues and Shannon glances up, looking at him like he's suddenly grown two heads.

"You want my help?" she asks, her tone laced with incredulity, like she doesn't actually believe anyone here could actually need her assistance.

"Yes. You're the only one here who speaks French," he tells her, his expression hopeful and when Shannon's expression shifts, from uncertainty to something Sayid thinks might be determination, he smiles.

Somewhere behind him he can sense someone watching them. Sawyer, he thinks, but when he turns he's met only with Boone's accusing eyes. He tells himself he's not disappointed and turns back to Shannon and the foreign sprawl of Danielle's hand.

~*~

"You should have let me do this days ago," Jack says, shaking his head and Sayid tenses as the needle pierces his flesh.

"I told you, it's fine," Sayid retorts from between clenched teeth, but he knows Jack's right.

Knows he's risking infection and that the last thing he should be doing is traipsing through the wilderness and opening old wounds.

"It's not fine. If this gets infected here, we're going to have to cut the leg off," Jack continues, muttering to himself about stubborn people and the lack of antibiotics.

Sayid tunes him out.

Focuses instead on the entrance of the cave, watching the day's fading light as it plays against the walls, shadows flickering across the worn surface in a way that remind him of the veil dancers back home. They bend, becoming darker before swirling and disappearing altogether and Sayid glances up to scowl at whoever's blocking his sun.

"So what's the verdict, Doc?" Sawyer asks, the words carrying only a hint of his usual sarcasm and, if Sayid didn't know any better, he'd think Sawyer actually cared.

"Sawyer, you're blocking my light," Jack replies and Sayid smirks as Sawyer ducks inside, moving away from the entrance and suddenly his dancers are back.

Swaying and moving with the breeze and Sayid can't help but wonder if anything on the island ever rests.

~*~

The bodies have faces.

Faces he recognizes and Sayid struggles to breathe as he takes in Charlie's bloated face, his eyes wide open and bloodshot, pupils lifeless and Sayid thinks he might actually be sick.

He swallows a mouthful of bile, forcing himself forward, taking in each face as he pushes his way through the clearing. Kate's lying prone on the ground, face frozen in a mask of terror. Jack's next to her, clutching something in his hand that Sayid can't make out. A pocket knife, maybe, or possibly a scalpel but he's pretty sure Jack's medical equipment was never quite that shiny.

Locke's missing his legs and Sayid doesn't bother checking to see if his eyes are open. They all are, he knows, and when he pushes past one of the larger trees, he's forced to close his eyes to block out the sight before him. Sawyer's resting on his back, hands tied across his stomach, splinters pushed up under every nail and Sayid gives up trying to hold back the nausea. He vomits nosily in the grass, his stomach lurching until he's left on his knees, dry heaving air and willing himself to die.

He did this.

~*~

The ground is cold beneath him, but it feels hot. Scalding, in fact, and Sayid pushes himself up off the cave floor, coming to his feet faster than he's ever moved before in his life. His hands are shaking, trembling like trees in the wind and he balls them into fists before tucking them into his pockets.

He turns at the sound of movement, his boots slipping against the dirt floor and he nearly falls to his knees before pinpointing the sound. Sawyer. Again.

"You stopped screaming," Sawyer says, like it's perfectly natural that he's once again watching Sayid sleep.

Sayid thinks that, maybe, Sawyer's just working up the courage to kill him in his sleep.

He doesn't answer, instead shaking off the sudden wave of memory and pushing his way outside. Into the crisp coolness of the night to breathe damp, refreshing air. He can hear Sawyer following, moving slowly like he has all the time in the world and when Sayid finally stops, he tenses in anticipation of a blow that never comes.

"You know, you can run, but it's going to catch up with you sooner or later, Omar," Sawyer says and Sayid turns to find Sawyer a mere foot away, thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans like they're actually having a civilized conversation.

"What, exactly, is going to catch up with me?" he hears himself ask, words forceful and mocking and he can't help but feel just a little bit proud that he managed to keep his voice so steady.

"I don't know. Whatever you're running from," Sawyer says, smiling and in that moment Sawyer reminds him of a grinning Cheshire cat.

He can't help but laugh at that, the sound carrying through the basin of the caves, vibrating off the walls and some of Sawyer's certainty vanishes.

"You really are crazy," Sawyer says after a moment, shaking his head and he pauses once, offering Sayid a somewhat concerned look before walking away.

Sayid resists the urge to ask why Sawyer even cares.

~*~

He tells himself this is just payback.

That he's not watching just for the sake of watching. That this has nothing to do with the way Sawyer's eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he dreams. That he's not mesmerized by the way Sawyer's lips fall open as he breathes. That he's just here to show Sawyer how truly disturbing it is to know someone's watching him sleep and then, maybe, Sawyer will leave him alone. Stay on the beach at night rather than trucking up to the caves to perch at Sayid's side and watch him dream.

He stopped believing the excuse two hours ago.

Because Sawyer's lips do fall open and his eyelashes do flutter and, sometimes, he shifts, stretching out to his full length and when he moans the sound travels straight to Sayid's cock and he's starting to like it.

Crave it and he knows it's probably sad that he's getting off on watching Sawyer sleep. But Sawyer started this, whatever it is they're doing, and when Sawyer shifts a second time, Sayid forces himself to stand and head back up toward the caves.

It's still early and Sayid can't help but wonder if Sawyer sleeps during the day just to be able to stay awake at night for him. It's sad and ridiculous and pathetic, but he pushes the thought aside, ducking into one of the far caves and throwing himself to the ground.

This time, when he dreams, the nightmares are gone. Replaced with Sawyer and skin and heat and a thousand new nightmares that Sayid doesn't mind having.

~*~

He's never skinned a boar before.

But he hasn't done a lot of things and that doesn't mean he's not willing to learn. Not when Locke's offering to teach, anyway, and Sayid blinks against the sudden image of Locke's torn body lying beneath the broken limbs of a tree.

The knife is dull, worn with time and use and there's far too much blood as he cuts into the carcass. Locke stops him, correcting his technique and Sayid sighs before trying again, a clean cut this time and Locke nods his approval.

The process is familiar in a way he doesn't like to think about. But it's also soothing, the rhythmic thisk-thisk of the knife lulling him into a false feeling of calm. He gets lost in it, pealing and cutting until, eventually the boar is clean, the fur removed and even Sayid has to admit, he's done a fairly decent job. Not nearly as good as Locke, but they all have their talents.

"Nicely done," Locke comments, his tone almost patronizing, like he's speaking to a small child, but Sayid knows it's nothing personal.

It's just Locke's way and he finds himself smiling in spite of himself. Beaming at the compliment before cleaning off the knife in the grass and handing it back to Locke.

~*~

He didn't realize how many people were still living on the beach until the tide came in, swallowing the sand and forcing them all to migrate to the caves. It's crowded, tempers flaring and, for once, it's not him involved in a dispute. This time it's Michael and Sawyer, fighting over Allah knows what and Sayid doesn't think before jumping into the middle of it.

Grabbing Sawyer around the waist and pulling him back, watching as Jack does the same with Michael. Jack's lecturing again, going on about tough situations and making the best of it and Sayid resists the urge to tell him he's wasting his breath. Because there are going to be arguments and confrontations. There's going to be conflict and the best way to deal with it is to let people work things out on their own. 

He's learnt that first hand over the years and it's not until Jack finishes speaking that he realizes he's still holding Sawyer.

Realizes Sawyer stopped fighting the second Sayid pulled him back.

~*~

He's not sleeping when Sawyer slips into the cave.

Just resting, eyes closed and blanket pulled up under his chin. He thinks Sawyer might know, but he doesn't say anything, instead sinking into the shadows and crouching down to sit on the floor. Sayid sighs, shifting a little so that he can open an eye unobserved, watch Sawyer watching him and Sayid grins at Sawyer's smile.

"Trouble sleeping?" Sawyer asks, tone conversational and when Sayid opens his eyes, pushing himself up into a seated position, he smirks.

"It would be easier without someone watching me," he answers, giving Sawyer a pointed look, but Sawyer merely shrugs.

"Tough break," Sawyer retorts, leaning up against the cave wall, his knees coming up to press against his chest.

For a moment, silence stretches between them, neither of them speaking, but then Sayid's moving, pulling himself up onto his feet and closing the distance between them. He stops, just as he reaches Sawyer's feet, kneeling until they're eye level and if Sawyer's concerned, he hides it well.

"Why?" Sayid asks, the words whispered and, for a brief second, he thinks Sawyer might actually feign ignorance.

"Nothing better to do," Sawyer finally responds, shrugging like the explanation should have been obvious and Sayid's left without words.

Because he doesn't know how to respond to that. Doesn't know what to say or even how to say it. He doesn't even try, because he knows words aren't going to work in this situation. Instead he pushes himself back up onto his feet, crossing back across the room to climb into his makeshift bed.

"Have fun," he says, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all before closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep.

Across the room, Sawyer laughs.

~*~

Metal wreckage from the plane cuts into his hand, blood pooling in his palm, dripping down to stain the earth crimson. He doesn't stop, not even when his sweat trickles into his eyes, stinging and momentarily blinding him. He just keeps on digging, turning over earth until the scent of decay and dirt fills the air.

It's everywhere, clinging to his skin and Sayid can't help but long for a decent, hot shower. He ignores the urge, thrusting the sharp end of what he thinks might have once been part of the wing into the ground, overturning soil and nearly weeping in frustration as he once again finds nothing.

They have to be here. They have to be because he's seen them and Sayid throws away the twisted piece of metal, falling to his knees to dig with his hands. Dirt slips between his fingers, inching under his nails and mingling with his blood until he's sticky and damp. Even then he doesn't stop, laughing almost manically as he tears at the ground, searching through roots and rocks for even the faintest hint of remains.

"They're part of the trees, Sayid," Sawyer's voice echoes beside him, sounding muffled like Sawyer's underwater and Sayid ignores him. "You have to dig deeper, beneath the roots," he continues, hands snaking down Sayid's arms, shaking him.

Shaking him until he's dizzy and Sayid bolts upright, sweat lining his brow, sliding down his temples to pool on his cheeks and when he blinks, Sawyer's kneeling above him. His eyes reflect nothing but panic, his fingers digging into Sayid's biceps as he shakes him awake.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sawyer asks, not removing his hands but he's stopped shaking, instead staring at Sayid like he's half afraid Sayid might just fall apart right in front of his eyes.

"What... I," Sayid gets out before the dream comes back, flickering in and out of his consciousness and he pushes Sawyer away, turning over his hands to stare at his palms and unbroken flesh.

"You were fucking laughing in your sleep, hysterically," Sawyer says, looking leery now, but he doesn't move away.

"The trees," Sayid says, the words whispered and he doesn't bother explaining before pushing himself off the ground, rushing out the entrance way and into the jungle.

Behind him he hears Sawyer's muffled curse, followed by the sound of pursuing footsteps.

~*~

That plant that Sun's been giving him for his leg...

Swore there were bodies...

Hallucinogenic properties...

Voices drift in and out of his consciousness, humming in the background and it takes Sayid a moment to figure out where he is. In the cave Jack designated as their infirmary, lying on a makeshift cot, bandages wrapped tight around his hands and something cool resting against his forehead. He thinks he might be trying to sit up, but his limbs are heavy, the air pressing against him and all he can do is get out a half grunted moan.

Jack's at his side within seconds.

"Sayid, open your eyes. That's it."

Jack's face blurs before him and Sayid blinks before bringing it into focus.

"Sawyer, I need water," Jack orders, over his shoulder and Sayid just catches Sawyer's nervous nod. "Hold still, okay. Don't try to talk."

Jack's using his doctor's voice, which means something's wrong and Sayid can't help but wonder who's hurt. He doesn't get a chance to ask, though, Sawyer returning a moment later, thrusting something cold and wet against his lips and Sayid drinks greedily. He doesn't remember being thirsty.

"That's enough," Jack says and Sayid doesn't know who he's speaking to.

Sawyer, maybe, because as soon as he says it Sawyer pulls back, taking all Sayid's water and Sayid whimpers before attempting to reach for it.

"Don't move. You hit your head pretty hard, I think you might have a concussion," Jack says, and Sayid doesn't remember that.

Doesn't remember anything except muted dreams about trees and moonlight and the crush of Sawyer's lips beneath his. At least, he thinks that was a dream. He can't be certain and when Sawyer's hand lands on his wrist, thumb absently tracing circles, Sayid frowns and tries to conjure up what he hopes is a memory.

~*~

He's had a headache for three days.

Three endless days involving nothing but Jack's daily checks, Kate's worried looks and Sawyer's almost hovering. Sayid's not even sure he can call it that, because he hasn't actually seen Sawyer hovering. But he can sense him, knows he's lurking somewhere in the camp, watching from some vantage point Sayid doesn't know about and when Boone and Shannon start up yet another argument, Sayid winces and pushes himself up off the ground.

Crosses across the camp to duck into the cave he's come to think of as home and even then their words carry. He tunes them out, sinking onto his bedding and wondering just how long he's going to be forced to endure the throbbing of his brain.

Apparently Sawyer filled Jack in on the details. And then Jack relayed them to Sayid. They'd fought, Sawyer trying to stop Sayid from tearing apart the entire island as he screamed about bodies and the ghosts of the dead. Somewhere along the way Sawyer had pushed him, Sayid falling to the ground to hit his head against the rocks and the rest is history.

He knows now there were no bodies. Nothing but dirt and trees and Sun's concoction of mind altering herbs. Sayid's not certain whether to feel relieved, disappointed or just embarrassed. It's hard to feel anything with the splitting headache he's had since he woke up three days ago, though, so he settles on relieved and leans back, resting his head in the crook of his elbow and closing his eyes against the soft light filtering in through the cave.

He opens his eyes a moment later to the sound of coughing, glancing up to see Sawyer standing tentatively in the entranceway. He doesn't say anything, but Sayid can tell he's a minute away from bolting, so Sayid pushes himself up onto he forearms, smiling something close to an invitation.

"How's your head?" Sawyer asks, tension visibly draining from his shoulders as he enters the cave.

"Sore," Sayid answers, watching Sawyer cross the small expanse between them, hovering in indecision for half a second before sinking down to the floor.

"Sorry about that," Sawyer says after a moment and Sayid blinks before he realizes the apology is sincere.

"I guess we're even, now," he replies, making light of the situation and when Sawyer laughs, he can't help but feel relieved.

"Yeah, I guess we are," Sawyer agrees, his laughter fading as he settles into a seated position.

Sayid once again finds himself lost for words and he shifts, pushing himself up until he's seated, facing Sawyer and yet he can't seem to bring himself to make eye contact. He can't quite pinpoint why, but he thinks it might have something to do with the shift between them. Like everything's been forgiven and suddenly he finds himself sitting across from an ally instead of an enemy.

The past few weeks are still a blur, but he remembers hints of them. Remembers waking to find Sawyer at his side. Remembers watching Sawyer sleep. Remembers the feel of Sawyer's hands sliding down his arms and the press of Sawyer's lips against his neck. The last image lingers and Sayid swallows before glancing up.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, words tentative like he honestly expects Sawyer to deny his request.

Sawyer doesn't, nodding and gesturing with his hand for Sayid to continue. Sayid clears his throat before speaking.

"Did I... did we... kiss?" he finally manages, feeling himself flush and for the first time since they crashed into the jungle, he's thankful for his dark skin.

Sawyer's staring at him again, weighing his words like he's not quite sure how to respond. He shakes his head before glancing down, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile and Sayid releases a breath.

"No. Did you want us to?" Sawyer finally answers, glancing up to make eye contact this time, his words hanging in the air between them and Sayid doesn't pause before nodding.

He half expects a fist to his face. Half expects Sawyer to laugh but before he can take it back, Sawyer's moving. Shifting and leaning toward him and Sayid closes his eyes involuntarily. He's still expecting a hit, but he's only marginally surprised when Sawyer's lips press against his, soft and hesitant, like he thinks Sayid might have been joking and Sayid fights against the urge to laugh.

Instead he leans a little closer, pressing a little firmer and trying not to whimper when Sawyer suddenly pulls back. He's smiling, though, genuine this time so Sayid knows he doesn't regret the kiss.

"You know, you could have just asked," Sawyer comments and this time Sayid does laugh.

Light and happy and for the first time in longer than he can remember, being trapped on island in the middle of nowhere doesn't seem so bad.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," Sayid manages, laughing again at Sawyer's arched eyebrow before reaching forward, grabbing Sawyer's shirt and pulling him back into a second, this time, much longer kiss.


End file.
